


Slip of the Tongue

by shichan_DFKink (shinchansgirl)



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Complete, Kink Meme, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:09:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinchansgirl/pseuds/shichan_DFKink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Harry is always mentioning in the books how green Marcone's eyes are, how they're the color of money--in other words, how pretty Marcone's eyes are without actually saying that. What if he unintentionally tells Marcone that? Like, blurts it out to his face?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip of the Tongue

“What, you think you’re just going to walk in there with your money-green eyes and your guns blazing and Cujo looking rabid and they’re just going to let you stay and negotiate terms?” I asked. Stars, but Marcone could be thick – you didn’t just walk in to a White Council meeting and tell them that the Wardens could operate in your city, but you wanted damn _reports_. Wizards didn’t take well to that.

It took me a moment to realize that the entire room had gone silent. Not that there were many people there, of course – Mouse, Marcone, and Hendricks over by the door holding up the wall – but everyone was watching me fume like it was some sort of sport. “What?” I finally demanded.

“Money-green eyes?” Marcone asked.

Shit. Aw, Hell’s _Bells_ I did not say that. I couldn’t have said that. No matter how true it was. “It’s an accurate enough description,” I answered, hoping I sounded reasonable.

“Hendricks you describe as a rabid, terrorizing bulldog, yet I have blazing guns and – as _you_ said, Harry – money-green eyes.”

Okay, so I had given Marcone a slightly more favorable description. So what? Didn’t mean anything. “What’s your point?” Belatedly, I remembered: “Don’t call me Harry.”

“What color are Ms. Rodriguez’s eyes, I wonder?”

I only hesitated a moment before I answered: “Blue.”

“Just blue?”

I shrugged. “Blue is blue.” And hopefully they weren’t brown. Because I honestly couldn’t remember.

“I see.” Bastard was smirking at me. “I’d make a guess and say that you don’t remember the color of Mr. Sells eyes, at the moment.”

I shrugged. “Minor detail,” I said. “I don’t usually look into my enemies’ eyes. Those soulgazes aren’t fun. Not that any are, but those are worse.”

He nodded. “You do not consider the eye color of your enemies to be important, and we have shared a soulgaze, so I must not be as much of an enemy as you pretend. You also remember clearly enough that my eyes are money-green – enough to let the description slip when you’re angry – but don’t remember that Ms. Rodriguez’s eyes are a dark brown. Apparently, my eye color is something more worthy of remembering than that of your former girlfriend’s.”

I shifted, uncomfortable. So what if I remembered his eye color? And Susan was my _former_ girlfriend. She left me, after that mess with the Red Court, and yes I could see how it was for the best but it still _hurt_ , damnit. He didn’t have to rub my shortcomings in my face. “Are we finished?” I asked. “Because I’d like to leave.”

“Oh no, Harry,” Marcone said, leaning back in his chair. Hendricks moved slightly, so his weight was against the door instead of the wall. “We’re far from finished.”

Damn.


End file.
